


Marked

by ScarletTyler



Series: What If [3]
Category: Halt and Catch Fire, Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Rough Sex, Scars, Smoking, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6331348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletTyler/pseuds/ScarletTyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe Macmillan throws away everything his father has to offer him and flees to London. There, he finds his match in Lucas North, his mystery-clad neighbor who has more questions than answers to offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yuuwaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuwaku/gifts).



> As promised, here's the Lucas x Joe fic that I've mentioned to you before. Thanks for the boost, I really needed it.
> 
>  
> 
> This is set before the start of HACF. In canon, Joe meets Simon Church and humps all over Europe. However, for this fic, when Joe escapes to Europe, he meets Lucas North instead. Smut ensues.

Joe glares at the mess of boxes piled up in the living room of his new apartment. He's had the entire day to himself, time that he should have spent unpacking and sorting, but he hadn't.  Now, the moon has risen above the brick-walled buildings lined up across the street, and yet Joe's bed remains in its disassembled state, taunting him with the promise of a backache and cold toes tomorrow morning.

A week ago, his father offered him a job at IBM, and instead of accepting the position, he turned his back and moved the hell out of their house, out of the state, out of the damn country, because why would he continue to subject himself to that old man's notion of what his life is supposed to be?

Bile rises up his throat when he is reminded that he couldn't even afford this dingy studio apartment in London if not for his father's parting gift—Joe's inheritance, so to speak. Someday, he would actually escape that man's shadow, and when that day comes, he would've already changed the world, shaped it to his liking, and bent everyone around to his will.

Today is not that day, however. He has no job, no friend, and no prospect whatsoever. All he has is an overwhelming mountain of boxes containing every crap he has owned so far. The sight alone makes him want to wreck things, fuck things up with his baseball bat, even set something on fire. He doesn't act on it though. There is too much at stake here, and he refuses to be 'saved' again by his saint of a father.

Joe grabs his lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his bag before climbing out of the window that opens to the fire stairwell. He had tried to quit smoking a few months back—something that he had picked up from the girl he'd been fucking at the time. Thankfully, it didn't stick and neither did their disaster of a relationship, if he could even call it that.

The hubbub of the evening commuters buzzes from below, disrupting an otherwise isolated refuge from the humdrum of starting over again. Joe takes the first drag and feels the nicotine hit his system. The smoke burns down his throat and into his chest. Breathing out in a steady stream, an old memory hits him while studying the pavement below.

It was a night like this when he first learned the names of the stars and how their lights swirl after getting a whiff of his mom's 'special cigarette'. He remembers the wind rushing past his ears, a woman's voice wailing into the night, before their fence welcomed him with its barbed embrace. Pain like no other soon followed, and when he opened his eyes after a week or so, it had already cost him his innocence and his mother's life.

Shaking away these unbidden thoughts from his mind, Joe's eyes slam shut as he takes a second drag. He can practically feel the stress float away with the tendrils of smoke.

"You know that could kill you, right?" says a deep, gruff voice from above him.

Eyelids flying open, Joe looks up and tries to locate who has just spoken. A man in a black leather jacket is lounging on the next landing up, back pressed against the railing and a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. What a fucking hypocrite. Joe cannot see much through the metal gratings, but it doesn't dampen his curiosity over his new neighbor.

"Might get hit by a car while crossing the street, too. At least this," Joe replies as he raises his cigarette, "is killing me slowly."

The man lets out an amused chuckle, low and breathy, sending shivers down Joe's back. His upstairs neighbor sounds incredibly sexy, and he is a feature that hadn't cost Joe an arm and a leg in rent money.

"You're American, I believe," the man remarks after puffing out a cloud of smoke. "What brings you to London?"

Joe should have expected this question, but he hadn't, so he doesn't have a ready answer. "Just felt like getting out of there for a bit," he replies, aiming to be vague and broad. The man doesn't need to know the details of his life. "You don't sound like a Londoner yourself."

Gazing down, his neighbor doesn't comment back on his observation. Joe narrows his eyes at the lack of reaction, pressing his lips together into a hard line. He can just let this go and return to his brooding silence, but then again, he has never learned when to back down from a challenge.

"Mind if I come up there?" he asks in an attempt to even the playing field. "My neck's starting to hurt from looking up at you."

"Be my guest," the man answers, gesturing to the empty space next to him.

Joe climbs up the ladder connecting their landings and discovers that the metal gratings have not prepared him well enough. The man paints a very tempting picture, all subtle grace, caged energy and high cheekbones. An extremely pleasant distraction for this night. They haven't said another word to each other, but his neighbor trains his eyes on Joe like a lion studying its prey.

That won't do at all, Joe decides. He is nobody's gazelle. "I'm Joe, by the way. Joe Macmillan." He doesn't offer a handshake, and instead settles beside the man, close enough but not touching.

"John," the man says in return without missing a beat. Then, his shoulders tense up, his exceptional blue eyes widening slightly for a brief moment. "Most people call me Lucas though."

Joe quirks an eyebrow over this odd behavior. "What are you, an actor or something?"

Lucas smirks, neither confirming nor denying Joe's assumption. "It would be in your best interest to keep the first name to yourself."

"Is that supposed to be impressive? Or threatening, even?"

If Joe is just any other average person, he would be running away now in the opposite direction because John—no, Lucas or whatever his name really is—exudes an air of palpable danger around him. However, Joe is determined to be anything but average. He feels unusually drawn to this stranger, so he ignores the warning from his guts and stays right where he is. It also doesn't help that Lucas looks more captivating up close, stunning with his sharp profile and unshaven jawline.

Flicking off the ashes from the tip of his cigarette, Lucas just answers him with another infuriatingly gorgeous, almost smug, grin.

The man is starting to get under Joe's skin, goading him to push further. "Lucas," he enunciates, rolling off each syllable in an exaggerated manner. "Suits you better anyway. Why the secrecy though? If it's so important, you shouldn't have blurted it out like that."

"Well, it's not every day that an attractive American moves in downstairs," Lucas counters, observing Joe's reaction from the corner of his eye.

Flirting to avoid the question. Joe can play this game in his sleep. "Oh, that's interesting 'cause I was just thinking that myself. You're a nice perk that wasn't advertised by the landlord."

Lucas takes a long drag from his cigarette, tilting up his head to release the smoke from his chest. "That remains to be seen. You haven't been here long."

"Long enough," Joe says, sweeping his gaze along the exposed area of the man's neck. "Besides, if you start making too much noise, I'm just gonna come up here and bang on your window."

"Might have to start being louder then to see if I could get you up here more," Lucas says, his lips curling up in a titillating manner.

They continue to talk and flirt shamelessly until they have both smoked their cigarettes down to the filter. The tension between them has been unmistakable right from the very start. Joe itches to discover how smoke would taste secondhand on the Lucas' lips and if those long fingers that had gripped the cigarette are as talented as he imagined them to be. However, for all the talking they have done, Joe still has no clue who Lucas really is, or what he actually does. He is willing to bet his next month's rent though that there is definitely more than meets the eye, and doesn't that just make him want to break down this stranger and watch him fall apart.

Lucas drops the cigarette butt to the metal grating and turns to Joe with a raised eyebrow. Nothing needs to be said to discern what that look means. Joe discards his own cigarette and with both hands, grabs Lucas by the nape of his neck. Lucas dives in first, however, his stubble rasping against Joe's lips as they devour each other—teeth, tongues and hot breaths that taste so fucking sinful.

Biting the man's bottom lip, Joe shoves him back towards the window, eager to get inside the dimly lit apartment. Lucas takes the hint and they stumble their way in, unable to spare a second without groping one another.

Taking a steadying breath, Joe casts a quick, furtive glance around the apartment. The place is almost Spartan in its arrangement and devoid of anything that might give him a clue about the man who is about to fuck him. He doesn't get to dwell much on this because Lucas lunges at him again, yanking his hair roughly, kissing and pressing his arousal against Joe's hips.

When Lucas dips down to nip and lick at his neck, Joe struggles to keep himself from convulsing in pleasure. The man's tongue is driving him out of his mind, but he doesn't want to relinquish control. "Fuck me," he breathes, trying to sound commanding but failing tremendously.

Lucas trails up his lips to Joe's ear and whispers heatedly, "Oh, I'll fuck you until you forget my name and yours, too." He punctuates this by sucking Joe's earlobe between his teeth, sending a million needle pricks down Joe's spine.

They begin to frantically tear off each other's clothes, revealing the first few hints of who Lucas might really be. The man's chest and arms are littered with tattoos—words and images that are undeniably significant for Lucas to feel the need to etch them on his skin. Ex-con? Tattoo artist? The details are not enough for Joe to pinpoint the man's identity, and he doesn't have the mental capacity right now to analyze them further.

Joe chances a glance at Lucas, wordlessly asking for an explanation. However, the man's gaze is caught on Joe's chest that is marred by the old, ugly scars of his lost childhood. A few seconds pass before their gazes finally lock with each other again. There are times when the eyes speak louder than words, and this moment right here bonds them with a silent agreement to keep their questions to themselves. This is just a hookup—a sexual release—not some cheesy love affair.

Tearing his gaze away from Lucas, Joe drops to his knees and begins unbuckling the man's belt. Hooking his fingers to the waistband, he tugs it down together with his black boxer briefs, releasing his prize in one fell swoop.  He unconsciously licks his lips as he grabs hold of the man's impressive cock and marvels at its velvety hardness and warmth. A drop of precum glistens at the tip of his shaft, so Joe darts out his tongue and laps it up. Lucas tenses and sucks in air greedily. Joe then swirls his tongue around the head, eliciting a primal growl this time. Grinning rakishly, he decides to continue the tease by taking it even slower. Licking the length of his shaft, sucking on his balls, Joe revels at the sound of Lucas' heated but frustrated moans.

The torture stops when Lucas rakes a hand through Joe's hair and growls, "Take it!" These are the first words either of them have spoken since they have first kissed, and the brusque order unexpectedly makes Joe's cock strain a little harder inside his pants.

Moving his hand to the back of the head, Lucas guides his cock to Joe's mouth, slipping it inside, inch by inch without meeting any resistance.

Breathing heavily through his nose, Joe grabs Lucas' ass and digs in his fingers as he slowly bobs his head up and down the length of him. Lucas seems to grow unsatisfied with the glacial pace, so he holds Joe still and slides in further until his cock hits the back of Joe's throat. Then, he pulls back out before ramming it inside again, shoving its entire length with an enraptured moan.

Joe tries to keep himself from gagging as Lucas fucks his mouth like a man possessed, but when he feels his eyes watering, he abruptly pulls back and chokes for air. Face flushed from exertion, he continues to stroke the man's cock with one hand however, gazing upward as he catches his breath.

Lucas stares back at him with a look that screams for more, but instead of forcing his cock back to Joe's mouth, Lucas heaves him up for a messy kiss. He then grins—a sexy, wicked grin—before pushing Joe down the bed.

Lucas immediately joins him, scrambling up his body, kissing and sucking wherever his mouth lands.

"Fuck me," Joe repeats breathlessly as Lucas frees him from his clothes. He wants more. He needs more.

Pulling down his pants, Lucas presses his open mouth on Joe's straining cock, still caged inside his briefs, before straightening up again. "As you wish." He makes a quick trip to his night table, opening the drawer to pick up a bottle of lube and several packets of condoms.

Joe chuckles at this sight while getting his fill of Lucas' bare ass streaked with red, angry lines from his death grip earlier. Serves him right, Joe thinks, knowing how painful those would be in the morning. There are more tattoos on the man's back, but they are far from Joe's priorities right now. "Someone's feeling optimistic."

"You asked for it," Lucas says with a smirk before tearing open a packet with his mouth. "Take off your briefs."

For once, Joe doesn't object to being ordered around. Discarding the underwear, he strokes himself as he watches Lucas put on the condom. After adjusting the fit, Lucas then props up Joe's legs, positioning himself in between.

Joe gasps when he feels the coolness of lube as Lucas massages his hole with it. Satisfied with his work, the man pours out more to put on his cock while eyeing Joe's splayed form before him. Joe increases the rhythm of his strokes, biting his lower lip in delicious anticipation.

"You look utterly ravishing," Lucas growls as he turns his attention back to Joe's ass. He probes a slick finger around the hole, and Joe tries to relax and let the finger slide in. Pressing stubbly kisses to Joe's inner thigh, Lucas adds another one, twisting, turning, opening him up. By the time a third finger is in, Joe is more than ready for what is to come, his own fingers clawing the sheets in hungry desperation.

Finally—Finally!—Joe feels Lucas' cock pressing against his hole, so he pushes himself down, aching to get fucked right this instant. He feels a slight discomfort at first as he struggles to accommodate the man's girth, but soon enough, he feels gloriously filled in the most pleasurable way. Ears pounding with the sound of his own blood rushing, Joe whimpers when Lucas sheathes his full length inside him. The man then leans down to capture his mouth again, sucking his lips and then his tongue in rapid succession.

Lucas starts slowly—long, slow thrusts—almost but not quite pulling all the way out before pushing back in. Each time, the head of his cock hits that sensitive spot, grazes against it, sending waves of pure pleasure and drawing out a string of curses from Joe.

It feels so good, but Joe needs more, needs it to be harder, faster. He utters this demand in halting, breathless words, and Lucas immediately complies. The man pushes himself upright and lifts Joe's legs up on each arm. He then picks up his speed until the apartment is filled with the slamming and smacking noises of skin against skin. Joe throws back his head as Lucas pounds into his ass. In and out. In and out. Pain and pleasure combining into one mind-blowing sensation.

The punishing speed eventually shifts back to slower, deeper strokes, almost soothing and reverent. Chasing the lost momentum, Joe wraps his legs around Lucas' waist and whines in protest. However, instead of  complying to his demand, Lucas suddenly leans down again and yanks him up from the bed. Without breaking their contact, the man tells Joe to hold on as he twists and reverses their position. Straddled by the waist, Lucas breathes an order. "Ride."

Somewhere, a small voice niggles at Joe, warning him that he's giving in too much, that he's baring himself too easily to this stranger. He should— They should— Joe suppresses these thoughts ruthlessly.

 _Fuck_ control. _Fuck_  reasons. His world is on fire.

Placing his hands on Lucas' chest for leverage, Joe impales himself and begins moving his ass up and down, savoring every second of it. He plunges himself over and over again as Lucas wraps a hand around his throbbing cock, stroking with absolute vigor. So what if he's losing himself, Joe thinks dizzily. This has been mad from the beginning anyway. Might as well be crazy until the end. He feels himself start to go to that place in his head, where everything is in chaos and wild and the ache feels _oh so good_. He is ready to fall.

Joe's body hungers for a release. In and out. In and out. Harder. Deeper. Faster. He feels like he is not going to last much longer now, so he chases that high until he is so close that he can almost taste it. When his legs buckle from the burn, Lucas grabs his ass and continues their ascent to pure ecstasy.

"I… I'm almost there…Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

And there he goes, spilling himself harder than he has done in a long time. Rope after rope of thick, creamy cum shoots out of his cock and into the sweat-covered chest of Lucas. With each release, he feels his ring of muscles contract around Lucas' cock, and so he watches as the man begins to tip over the edge, too.

Deep, reverberating groans of unadulterated pleasure fill the air as Lucas abruptly pulls out of Joe, takes off the condom and jerks off his glistening cock with fevered urgency.

The sight is too irresistible, too fucking hot, so Joe bends down again and takes the man's cock into his mouth. Amidst the obscene sounds of sucking and moaning, Joe looks up and locks gazes with Lucas. Electric, that's what Joe thinks of this brief connection that is cut off when, with slightly parted lips, Lucas tenses up and throws back his head.

Joe moans, tasting the hot cum—bitter and sweet—dance on his tongue and down his throat, satisfying a thirst that he hasn't known until now. After one final thrust, Lucas collapses back down the bed, breathless and shimmering with perspiration. With the tang of the man's cum still on his lips, Joe crawls up and captures Lucas' mouth, sharing the flavor with a toe-curling kiss.

Slick with a mixture of their body fluids, Joe sprawls down to his side, boneless and spent. His mind is still in tatters, blown away by their explosive climax. He tries to gather his wits, however, when Lucas rolls over the other side of the bed. The man staggers up and disappears into a room, which Joe presumes to be the bathroom.

A few seconds later, Lucas returns with a wet cloth in one hand while running another one across his chest. Joe extends out a hand to accept the cloth, but Lucas plops down beside him and does the cleanup for him. It would seem like a sweet and considerate gesture at first, but Joe easily sees through the man's intention. Gazing down intently at his chest, Lucas rakes his eyes over the unsightly contours of Joe's scars.

The inevitable question hangs in the air, unasked but stifling nonetheless. There is something different, something chilling, in the way Lucas regards his scars, and it alerts a part of Joe, screaming at him to run and hide. However, Joe has gotten damn good at pretending nonchalance, good at disguising himself with more lies and empty smiles.

"Just got out of an abusive relationship, in case you're wondering," he dissimulates, though he suddenly realizes that it's somewhat close to the truth of why he has always tried to run away from his father. He pushes away the sobering thought and focuses back to Lucas, who seems to be scowling over his attempt at deception. 

The intensity of the man's gaze bores a hole through Joe's armor of lies. "Those look much older than what you're implying." 

With the threat of being maneuvered into revealing the truth, Joe pushes himself up from the bed, eyes scanning the room for his clothes. He feels sore between his legs, but the need to escape spurs him to stand up and get the fuck out of this apartment as soon as possible. "I have to go now. Loads of unpacking to do."

The reality of his poor decision to fuck his new neighbor is sinking in, and even more so when he realizes that he still doesn’t know what he has gotten himself into this time. Someone as gorgeous as Lucas always comes with a catch. Drug dealer? Serial killer? Right-wing fascist? Those images and words on his body aren't just the run-of-the-mill designs found in some seedy tattoo parlor. Whoever he is, Joe cannot get more entangled with Lucas.

A quick, hard fuck, then he's gone. That's how Joe has always done things back home.

Picking up his shirt from the floor, a brief goodbye is ready on Joe's lips. However, he makes the mistake of turning back his gaze to Lucas. It's bewildering how this man can sway him with just one look. They have just met and fucked, so there is no reason for Joe to question his own judgment. Eyes do speak louder than words, however, and Lucas is demanding him to not move another muscle lest be punished for his obstinacy.

Joe desperately wants to unravel the hold Lucas has over him, but how can he when he doesn't even know where to start? How can he when a part of him wants to submit and be controlled again by this man. . . this _stranger?_

After all, the night is still young and so full of promise.

Pulled in and trapped by this unexpectedly potent connection, Joe realizes that if he stays, this thing with Lucas can easily turn into a bad, crippling addiction, much like his never-ending affair with cigarettes. Either might kill him sooner or later, but Joe can't be assed to care right now. Lucas stalks toward him and captures his lips in an electrically charged kiss.

 _Fuck_ his mind. _Fuck_ his heart. His walls are crashing down.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first explicit fic, and it has taken a lot of deep breaths and cold feet before I actually managed to get over myself. Now that the dam has been breached, I think I can now incorporate more smut material to my succeeding fics. Anyway, thanks for reading. Comments and kudos are welcome and much appreciated. :)


End file.
